


Don't You Need Some of This?

by IllBeRightBack



Series: Antichrist Superstar [2]
Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: 1996, Antichrist Superstar, M/M, cut my hands off so I'll stop writing this garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 17:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9559253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllBeRightBack/pseuds/IllBeRightBack
Summary: Manson thought in silence for a few moments while Malm wrote something on his desk. He really wanted to make this album… And if he had to sacrifice a little bit of his dignity to save it… So be it.orMalm wants to talk about the Album and Manson's willing to do anything to save it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering if I hate myself for this one... I do.
> 
> Self indulgent trash again.
> 
> You don't really have to read the first one to get this one, they're all just about the Antichrist Superstar production hell.
> 
> Enjoy? Don't look at me, pls.

Manson sat in Malm’s office as he closed the door behind them. He took a seat in front of him at his desk.

  
“OK, we need to talk about the budget” Malm started.

  
“What about it?” Manson asked, trying to play dumb like they hadn’t been lighting everything in sight on fire at the studio and blowing their own money on coke.

  
“Well, for one, I heard that a drum machine was set on fire,” Malm sighed, running his hands over his face.

  
_Shit._

  
“Uhhhh…...” Manson stalled. Who the hell told him that? Scott probably, that motherfucker.

  
“Yeah, _uhhhhhh_ , it's kind of expensive to fund this destruction. Don’t try to be cute with me” Malm snapped, mocking him. "I'm going to have to do something about this. We can't keep throwing money into this fire."

  
_Fuck that_ , Manson thought, _there could NOT be any more road blocks in the way of making this album._

  
“No,” Manson said finally. He felt his heart sink a little.

  
“No? Sorry, but I call the shots on this one. I'm going to have to take action and maybe if you get your shit together we can kick the budget back up." Malm said threateningly.

  
A wave of anger and stress washed over Manson. He wanted to punch him in the face and leave indents from his rings as a reminder, but he knew that would only make things worse. Hopefully, Scott would provoke him later.

  
“What… What can I do? Please, we’ll quit pissing around so much, I swear.” Manson said, the closest he’d ever come genuine begging in his life.

  
“Show me, and then we can talk about kicking it back up,” Malm said stubbornly.

  
Manson didn’t know what to do. Well… He had an idea.... But did he  _really_ want to do sink to _that_ level?

He thought in silence for a few moments while Malm wrote something on his desk. He really wanted to make this album… And if he had to sacrifice a little bit of his dignity to save it… So be it.

  
“Isn’t there _anything_ I can do to keep the budget up?” Manson asked breathily, leaning forward.

  
Internally, he was kicking himself in the ass, but he had to do what he had to do.

  
“Ha-ha,” Malm laughed sarcastically, not looking up from the paper on his desk.

  
Malm clearly thought he was kidding around, playing up the role of the shitty pop star that would do anything for a record deal. Manson was going to have to make this a little more obvious. Manson swallowed thickly and exhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

  
Was he really doing this?

  
Yep.

  
He stood up slowly, Malm not taking any notice. He stalked languidly around to the other side of his desk, his feet felt heavy. Trent might not be happy about this… But maybe he never had to know.

  
Malm was still not paying attention, so Manson decided he was going to have to be more forward about this. He grabbed Malm’s chair, turned it towards him and quickly straddled his waist.

  
Malm, as always, seemed unimpressed, but a little bit of amusement was cracking through the surface.

  
“What do YOU want?’ He breathed a predatory laugh. His hands had rested on Manson’s bony hips. It looked like he wanted to play along.

  
“We need to keep the budget where it is… Pleeeaaasseee” Manson said over-dramatically, leaning a little closer.

  
Was he ashamed? Yes. Yes he was. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He could wallow in his shallow self-loathing after he was done here.

  
Malm just sighed.

 

"You're awful," He scoffed.

  
“Isn’t there _anything_ I can do, Mr. Malm?” Manson whined sarcastically, ignoring that last comment. Fuck, he hated himself, but he had to play this up. It was all just for show, he reminded himself.

 

Trent was going to kill him.

 

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” Malm teased back, the grip on Manson's hips tightening a little.

  
In Manson’s mind, that meant 'Yes'. He slowly slid to his knees on the floor.

  
_Just fucking do this._


End file.
